


Sharp Little Pinpricks

by melodious_rain



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Curses, Fantasy Races, M/M, Purple Hawke, Secret Magic, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 19:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5060653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodious_rain/pseuds/melodious_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke's just a normal guy living in a secret world of magic. He's grown up with it, and at this point nothing the world could throw at him can surprise him. Until something DOES catch him off guard, and he ends up cursed with no way to break the spell.</p><p>Anders considered himself an Average Joe, with the exception of a mile-wide bad luck streak, and the, you know, magic. It seemed like fate would have him cross paths with an unlucky black cat. Little does he know his rescued stray is more than it seems.</p><p>(Or: Hawke gets turned into a cat and Anders takes him home)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharp Little Pinpricks

Garrett Hawke's day began normally enough. Sunlight slipped into his small one bedroom apartment while he dozed on until his alarm clock dragged him into unwelcome consciousness. Somehow in the middle of the night he'd ended up slumping halfway off his too-little bed, sheets strewn across the dusty floor pathetically. Sighing and wiping the drool from his bearded chin, Hawke sat up to check what time he was working that day.

But, according to the schedule tacked to the wall, he was off today. Why the hell was he awake? Heck to the no. Fuck this, going back to bed, sorry, come again another time.

He'd just nuzzled under his retrieved blankets when it occurred to him that, hey, why did his alarm go off? Why did he set it last night? What was past him thinking, waking him up on a Saturday.

His phone buzzed on his bedside table.

 _Oh_. Meeting Bethany.

Hawke let out a long, undignified groan. He couldn't believe this. Why had he agreed to get up at eight a.m. on a day he didn't need to be up? Past him was an asshole.

Hawke rolled out of bed and scrubbed his sleepy eyes. He had a text from his sister reminding him of their meeting time and location, and with a very sad, very dramatic sigh, Hawke dragged himself into the bathroom to clean himself up. His morning breath was _terrible_.

Hawke burrowed his nose into his red scarf when his boots finally crunched into the icy snow outside. The streets were understandably empty, seeing as it was effing cold outside, and last night had apparently seasoned the sidewalks with a layer of slick sleet. But Hawke dug his hands into the pockets of his black trench coat and tried to think warm thoughts as he hurried down the block.

Bethany was bundled up in a puffy white ski jacket, her favorite red scarf around her neck. She waved her gloved hands at her excitedly, and Hawke couldn't help but smile. He came to meet her at the entrance of the city's massive park and she instantly looped her arm through his.

"Ready to get going?" Bethany wondered with a beaming smile. Her cheeks and nose were flushed red from the cold.

Hawke sighed pitifully. "Why'd I have to come? Why aren't you bringing Carver?"

"He had a thing. C'mon, hurry up, it's almost time to go," and with that, she tugged her brother along insistently. The park, normally green and well taken care of by the city, was covered in white. Jogging feet had worn a path through the slush, and the siblings stuck to the way as long as they could before veering off into the sparse trees.

They came to a crumbling stone wall, and Bethany checked her golden pocket watch.

"Okay, eight-fourty-two, ready to go?" An embroidered draw-string pouch was in her hand, and she withdrew a pinch of red ash.

"Actually, I would rather wait another hour. Just to think about life, you know? And hot pretzels. And coffee. I didn't get coffee, Bethany."

"Shut up and think of the Dalish market, will you?"

"Fine, thinking."

Without further ado, Bethany sprinkled the red ash on the stones and took hold of Garrett's elbow, and the two of them stepped over the gap in the wall. Hawke made sure to clench his eyes firmly shut so he could pretend it didn't feel like he was falling through time and space itself. Stepping over that damn wall was like expecting one more step at the top of a staircase and having your stomach drop to your feet.

Groaning for the twentieth time today (and it wasn't even noon) Hawke straightened up and blinked at the new sights before him. No longer were they in their city of Kirkwall, but yalms away in another realm inaccessible by anything other than magic.

And it wasn't even noon.

Hawke whined about his upset stomach while his little sister rolled her eyes and tugged him toward the bustling market before them. The Dalish market was an ever-changing location, as they never stayed in the same place for long. This particular day shop had been set up in a massive and ancient forest. Huge trees towered over them at dizzying heights, with trunks so wide it would take several people to form a circle around it with linked hands.

Tents, wagons, and folding tables were set up snugly among the trees. Dozens and dozens of people hawked their wares, people of every race imaginable. The market seemed fairly busy today, despite the cold. Thankfully there was no snow here, wherever 'here' was.

Bethany was a witch, a young one with very little training. Their father, Malcolm, had been a very capable spell caster as well, and he only seemed to pass his talents onto the family's only girl. There was an unspoken rule that young people of the very secret and very vast community of seemingly-mythical beings should never travel anywhere alone.

Which meant Carver, Bethany's non-magical twin, was very sick of magic and all it entailed.

Hawke didn't mind the magical community too much, he thought it was quite interesting compared to mundane life. However, sometimes he felt like the only sane one in a hurricane of craziness, which was very much not good. Because, well, he was him, and if he was the baseline everyone else was measured by, everyone else was screwed.

"Well, I'll be thrice damned! Hawke! Get your lousy ass over here!"

There were other benefits to being a somewhat-almost-not-really member of the magical community. A scantily clad dark skinned woman was waving at him from her stall, and Hawke may or may not be able to see her breasts jiggle from here.

"I'll go shop; catch up with you in a bit," Bethany promised with a pat on his arm. And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

Shaking his head, Hawke headed over to the familiar face. "Morning, Bela," he greeted, receiving a kiss on the cheek from the gorgeous siren.

"Long time, no see, Hawkey. Busy catching small rodents and scaring starlings off power lines?"

"More like busy avoiding you and your terrible jokes. You're going to pay for that ass comment later."

"I only jest, darling, you and I both know you have a marvelous rear," she reassured, leering at his backside pointedly.

Hawke preened. "Damn right."

The two of them caught up on what they'd missed; with Hawke, nothing interesting whatsoever had happened. Isabela, however. The siren had just returned from a sea trip that involved no less than two pirate vessels and a Orlesian whaling ship that nearly got her harpooned for her trouble. She showed him the plunder laid out on her table and told him point blank where she'd found each piece.

"What's with the collection of gold teeth?"

"Well, you see, there was this shipwreck and I talked this merman named Jethan into bringing me everything shiny in it - "

"Talked?" Hawke interjected skeptically.

"Yes, well, maybe hummed. It _helps_ okay, I bet it would even get your feathery butt in bed, if I was so inclined."

"You are so inclined."

"Yes, well... true."

It was no secret that a lot of magic simply didn't work on Hawke. Even siren's song. Isabela had found that out the hard way during their first meeting. It frustrated Bethany to no end, because _what are you, a dwarf? Are you a secretly a dwarf Garrett because I just don't freaking understand you._ But Hawke was definitely **not** magical, just like his mother and younger brother. He defended it as him being so anti-magic that magic didn't even effect him. He repelled magic like Bethany repelled technology.

Bethany broke Hawke's Mac Book two years ago and he wasn't over it.

A herd of Halla, brilliant white deer with delicate branch-like antlers raised carefully by the elven folk, was being led through the market. The Dalish market had been started and run by elves for centuries before they allowed other magic-folk to visit, and since the market has flourished. Elves were one of the many races that lived in secret in the modern world, disguised under glamours and old magicks to allow them to lead normal lives among society if they so choose.

In the middle of the crowd, parting it like a stone, was another example of one of the mysterious races concealed within the magic community. A huge, hulking, horned Qunari man stood in the path, Halla lightly gliding around him like a peaceful stream. They were easily the most intimidating race known to the magic community, and rarely did they integrate with mundane society. Hawke had yet to see a Qunari glamoured to appear normal in real life, so he just assumed it never happened.

"Hey, I think I knew that man back in Antiva! Bye!"

Isabela was suddenly nowhere to be found. A tarp inscribed with anti-theft runes had been thrown over her wares and the door to her wagon was firmly shut.

Well then.

Hawke busied himself around the bustling market, rather sure Bethany had quite a bit of shopping to do. She'd had a hard time reaching out to other magic folk for fear of being discovered by the wrong sort of people, so she was stuck with her two brothers and non-magical mother. Which meant trips like these were few and far between.

Hawke was industriously looking for a stand selling food that wasn't run by any fae, because that was just a bad idea, when someone small bumped into his legs. Glancing down, he found a skinny child gazing up at him pleadingly.

Before he could get a word out, the boy begged, "Sorry sir, could I bother you for a silver? My sister and I haven't eaten in two days."

Hawke searched around, wondering for a second if this could be a trick, before noting a girl hiding behind a tree not far away, about six years old and very thin. His tender big-brother heart promptly broke. "Where are your parents?" wondered Hawke, suddenly very concerned.

The boy shook his head. "Don't got any. Keeper Marethari said we could travel with them, but we lost them a week ago in the market."

Hawke gaped. "And they haven't been feeding you?"

He shook his little head. Hawke was already making a plan, searching the stalls for someone capable who could help. "Here, take this and get some food. I'll help you find the Keeper and everything will be alright." Hawke distractedly dug some bills out of his wallet and pointed the boy towards a stall selling meat buns. He then strode around, asking a group of elves about the missing clan and how to contact them.

"I'm familiar with Marethari. I will send her First a message," promised a blonde elven mage, just as Hawke heard a voice shout:

"You dirty shem! Get away from my stand! Thief!"

Fearing the worst, Hawke hurried over to the food stand to find the elven merchant shouting at the little boy, who clutched a steaming meat bun to his chest. The elf was brandishing what looked like - what definitely was - a magic staff at the cowering child, a look of utter rage on his elfin face. "Hey!" Hawke inserted himself between the two of them, holding his hands up placatingly. "What's going on? I gave him money to pay!"

The mage sized up Hawke with a scathing glare, not backing down from his aggressive stance. "This rat gave me mundane shemlen money, as if I have any need of _that!_ I told him to be on his way, then he snatched that right off my cart!"

The trembling boy shot back, "He told me my sister and me could starve!" The child looked to be on the verge of tears. His sister was a distance away, peeking out from behind a tree.

Hawke's mouth set into an indignant frown. "Well, that's only slightly villainous," Hawke muttered sarcastically. He sized up the mage before him, deciding the man was old and slight, and with his magic unlikely to have any effect on him, Hawke could probably take him. Not that he was going to fight an old man. Okay, he might. "Sir, with all due respect, which is none, go to hell."

"You insolent - !" The mage squawked and rose his staff.

"Yeah, you can try that, good luck though." Hawke hurriedly waved at the boy to go join his sister. This might turn ugly. "Look, I'm sure plenty of upstanding citizens would let children go hungry, but you seem to be having a bad day. I _could_ figure out some way to pay you, but you're really not convincing me I should." Hawke should probably shut up.

The mage had turned a terrible shade of mauve in his anger, and spit sprayed from his thin lips when he boomed furiously, "I'll teach you to speak to a mage in such a way!" And Hawke braced himself for a spell to be hurled in his direction.

However, it was a bottle that broke at his feet, and green smoke billowed around him in a sudden explosion. The crowd exclaimed in alarm at the noise, and the Halla were suddenly stampeding through the market, confusion and fear abound. And Hawke, to his shock, found himself shrinking. The mage's face leered above him, growing taller and taller as smoke made his eyes water.

The elf grinned maliciously, leaning down to the small, disoriented being Hawke had become. "Not so cocksure now, are you?" And with manic delight, the mage reared back his foot and kicked the transfigured Hawke into the grassy street.

Bewildered and in a surprising amount of pain, Hawke tumbled limply, unable to control his limbs. He hit the ground hard, and he could barely raise his head as feet and hooves stomped into the grass around him, dangerously close to his small body. But then, he blearily noticed with impending dread coiling in his stomach, white hooves stampeding towards him. Lancing pain roared through him, then there was only blackness.

 

* * *

 

Anders, as it will be convenient to call him, was not having a particularly pleasant day. He'd woken up fairly late due to forgetting to set his alarm the night prior, and as a result he'd had to reschedule a long-awaited meeting for later in the week. He then discovered he'd run out of coffee. How the hell was he supposed to function on four hours of sleep with no coffee? Then he happened to glance at the time and saw it was nearly eight thirty. If he wanted to get to the market in time, he would have to leave right now.

And that was how he'd accidentally put on two unmatched shoes before booking it out the door.

He made it to the wall at precisely eight fourty-three.

"Nooooo...." Anders groaned in misery, scrubbing his hands down his face. Now he'd have to wait another hour for the passage to reopen at nine fourty-two. Why was this his life.

Well, at least now he had time for coffee. Dragging his mismatched feet, he found a food cart selling a cheap, crappy brew and sucked down two cups. Why had he agreed to take that extra shift last night? He hadn't gotten home until two in the morning. Why did he hate himself so much.

He noticed his shoes while he sat on a park bench.

Instead of sulking for an hour like he wanted to, Anders did some regular mundane shopping and put his groceries away with just enough time to make it to the market right on time, this time with matching shoes. He hopped lightly over the crumbled barrier and came out on the other side to find utter bedlam. A herd of Halla was scattered among the trees and merchant stands, people darted to and fro in what appeared to be confusion and panic. There was a foul stench in the air like burnt hair, making Anders cough and his eyes water. Some tables and carts seemed to have been turned over by either spooked Halla or fleeing people.

It was like a bomb had gone off, and Anders had had nothing to do with it. Amazing.

Eventually things calmed down, but people were still buzzing with bewilderment. What had happened? What caused the explosion? Was anyone hurt? People worked to restore peace dutifully while searching for answers. Tables were righted and the Halla were brought back to order and moved along.

It seemed no one was injured, but Anders decided he had no inclination to linger, just in case someone had the bright idea of blowing more things up. Which was just about as hypocritical as you could get, but whatever. He zipped through the stalls he planned on visiting, gathering the herbs and totems he'd been running low on. At the last one, he noticed a scorch mark on the ground nearby.

"Hey," Anders called to the man at the stand. The elf paused in his feverish packing. "Did you see what happened?"

The elf squinted at Anders and looked him up and down. "Nope, I'd just stepped away. Probably some rotten kids playing a joke."

"Yeah?" Anders wondered aloud, then crouched down to take a closer look. The dirt was sticky and damp from magic, and there looked to be very fine, tiny glass shards. Almost indistinguishable from the dirt. "Any of your potions perchance missing?"

The pallid man bared his teeth like a caged dog. "How dare you?! I told you I wasn't around when it happened, quit poking your pointy nose in other people's business!"

Anders straightened up and fixed the imperious elf with a look. "Well, fine then. I wasn't accusing you of anything, but hey, take a long walk on a short pier, buddy." And without making his intended purchase, Anders turned on his heel and left. The stand across the way was selling the same crystals he needed anyhow. Finally, with his knapsack loaded with purchases, he set back towards the passage to lead him home.

And then he noticed a couple of kids squatting next to what was probably a dead animal. The young elflings were poking at the poor thing and one of the girls was sniffling sadly over it. Anders was about to simply walk by when he heard the tearful girl say:

"The poor kitty! Is it awake?"

That brought him up short as his heart dropped to his feet. Don't fucking cry in the middle of the Dalish market, Anders. Don't you do it. He couldn't help his need to know, and he inched forward to try and get a look.

"It's still breathing," one of the boys said.

"It's suffering! We should snap its neck," crowed the other.

Oh, heck to the no. Anders more or less dove to still the elflings hands before he could harm the black furry creature further. "No, wait! I can heal it!" Anders declared maybe a little too urgently.

"You'll heal him?" cried the girl gleefully.

"It's just a cat!" scoffed one of the boys, the one who wanted to snap the poor things neck.

Anders ignored the children and examined his tiny patient. The cat was is terrible shape. It appeared that the thing had been trampled, either by an animal or person he couldn't know. But the amount of blood coming from its nose and mouth indicated horrific internal bleeding. Anders ghosted his fingers over its broken body, finding its ribcage nearly caved in. Anders' stomach lurched, wondering how the beast was still alive.

Not wasting any more of the animal's borrowed time, Anders got to work. He channeled his healing spell through his hands, allowing him to directly target the worst of the injuries with focused energy. He could feel the bones mend and damaged tissue knit together, and the cat took a shuddering breath under his careful fingers.

"You saved him! You saved him!" cheered the girl as she bounced up and down in delight.

"Why won't it wake up?" asked the gentler boy, stroking the back of the cat's neck softly.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Anders noted that the girl was correct in the assumption of the cat's sex. "It will take a while for his body to make more. He needs to rest," the doctor struggled to explain in terms children could understand.

"Are you gonna take care of him?" he asked Anders, looking up at him with critical eyes.

"I could take care of him! I've always wanted a kitty!" cried the girl.

The other boy swiveled his head to glare at her. "Mother would never allow it! They make her eyes itch."

"I'll take the cat," sighed Anders. He hoped Ser Pounce-a-lot couldn't sense his infidelity. He gingerly lifted the limp creature, mindful of hurting it, and cradled the unconscious, bloody thing in the crook of his elbow. "He'll be safe with me," he promised the children solemnly.

The elflings stared up at him for only a moment before simultaneously losing interest. "Okay," shrugged the girl's brother. "Let's play!" And within a blink, they dashed into the trees together, the girl leaving him with a parting smile and sweet wave.

Sighing again, Anders adjusted his new pet in his arm and trudged through the market to head home. He gazed down at it, finding the cat to be a little on the fluffy side, especially its tail. And it was fairly large, for a cat. Bigger than Ser Pounce-a-lot for sure. He was completely black, with the exception of the strangest red strip across the bride of his nose. Anders was half sure it was blood, but it was very distinct. He'd know better after he got the poor thing cleaned up.... Hopefully he wouldn't royally fuck this up and accidentally let the cat die.

 

* * *

 

In case anyone was curious about Cat!Hawke.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed it!


End file.
